Coffee Eyes
by Elidy
Summary: Modern Day Pride and Prejudice. Summary and Stuff inside.
1. Of Crappy Coffee and Pretty Eyes

**Greetings. I suppose you are here because, like me, you have extraordinarily good tastes in books and, like me, felt the need to continue "stalking" the characters of one of those said books. If I am correct in my assumptions and that is, in fact, the case, then Greetings. **

**I now present before you Miss Felicity Benson, Mr. August Darcy, and the Cast, who all bear striking resemblances to the very characters you are so set on following. Ladies and Gentlemen, shall we begin?**

* * *

**Of Crappy Coffee and Pretty Eyes.**

_**Presented by Mr. August Darcy.**_

* * *

I sit in a cheap red vinyl chair at the back of a fifties diner and stare into the cup of black coffee in front of me. The diner sits on a quiet corner, of a quiet street, in a quiet town. Inside the diner, however, quiet seems to be the last thing on anyone's mind. All around, families and children talk and laugh. The noise of the place fills my senses. It worms its way under my skin, filling me up and pressing against the backs of my eyes in what I feel will soon become an excruciating migraine.

_Am I the only one here alone?_

Not surprisingly, the thought doesn't bother me, I prefer my own company. As I stare into my cup of coffee, I get the sensation that if I look deep enough, it will swallow me whole. I can only dream.

I wouldn't even be in this God forsaken town if it weren't for Charles. He is off on another one of his 'raise money for charity, help human kind, save the world" ideas. Don't get me wrong, I love humanity as much as the next person, but when helping it comes at the price of my nerves and hours of sleep, well, let's just say, it wears on me. But Charles is my closest, and perhaps only, friend. He puts up with my bad moods, and my antisocial ways, and has since our freshman year at college.

So when he asked for my help, read: He asked for the help of my pocket book, I gladly obliged. I later found out that he had conveniently left out the fact that his two sisters, and the eldest' fiance would also be lending a hand(and a buck) to the fundraiser. I have always found it strange, the way it always takes money to raise money.

Their being here wasn't a problem, so much as the effect the boredom that comes form spending too much time in a small college town would have on them, was. The elder and her boyfriend I could tolerably stand, so long as I wasn't in the same room as them, but the other was a definite problem, as I could never seem to escape her. She was constantly goading me into attending parties, talking to people, and generally paying a lot of attention to herself. She was the reason that I was in this tacky establishment in the first place. If she hadn't been here, I would be at Charles' rented place now, relaxing, perhaps with a book. But she's there, and I am stuck in a crummy diner, with a crappy cup of black coffee on the table in front of me. A cup of coffee, that had ceased to steam, and was probably getting cold. Tentatively, I pick it up and bring it to my lips. I feel myself cringe as the coffee floods mouth.

It is positively revolting. Not only is it so horribly bitter that it is undrinkable, but there are bits of the coffee ground floating at the bottom. It is my opinion that, unlike with tea, where having leaves in the cup if perfectly fine, coffee grounds and the coffee drinker should never meet.

My reverie on the sources of caffeinated beverages is interrupted by a female voice . "It's better with sugar." I hear her say.

I look up, the cringe still lingering on my face. The girl who spoke has a mass of honey colored curls that stopped just above her shoulder blades. She's nothing spectacular, just an ordinary waitress, except...

...her eyes are dark.

With most red heads you get green, or even blue eyes, but this girls eyes are the same color as the bitter coffee that I am still cringing from.

The girl, whose name tag reads 'Marc', and which I highly doubt is her name, takes my silent cringe to mean I didn't hear her.

"The coffee," she repeats, "It's better with sugar."

Just as I am about to tell her that the coffee would suck no matter what was added, a boy, with an identical name tag reading "Lis" walks up. This evening is getting odder by the second.

"I'm really sorry." he says to me before commanding "Marc's" full attention.

"Some lady just asked me what Lis was short for, and that that man in the back asked me if I was gay "or something"." He adds dramatic quotation marks with his hands around the "or something".

"What did you tell him?" Marc, who I now assumed was actually Lis asks him, looking horrified.

"I told him that I was, and that his daddy found that out last night. I think he just went to the manager."

"Marc you didn't!" she exclaims, the look on her face suggested something of this nature had occurred before. I can't believe the man had to ask. The boy is as much of an embodiment of the stereotype as is humanly possible.

Marc just shrugs.

The girl, who I now knew was Lis, despite the name tag and assuming these two were the only employees of this establishment to switch name tags today, looks in my direction. I wave at her.

"I'm really sorry." she says, "I'll bring you some sugar after I fix this."

I stand. This night has pushed my reserve of patients over the edge.

"This coffee, would taste like shit even if you added the Nectar and Ambrosia of the Gods to it." then I turn, and walk toward the door.

Behind me, I can hear the waitress scolding the boy again. As I reach for the door handle, moments away from escaping this horrible evening, I hear her voice behind me once again.

"You were right." she says.

I turn to face her. I generally am, but I want to know which instance she was referring to.

"On the ambrosia thing." she answers, seemingly reading my thoughts.

Right, that one.

She pulls a card out of her jeans pocket and hands it to me.

"Here, come by tomorrow around noon, and I'll make the harassment of you're taste buds up to you" I stare at her a moment longer. A man could lose himself in those eyes pretty quickly if he wasn't careful.

Currently, it seemed like that said man, was me.

"Well I gotta go take care of damage control with Mark" she pauses, cocking her head at me, "Really come by, I promise you, not all the coffee in this place tastes like liquid purgatory for your tongue." she smiles, then turned and rolls back toward where she had left Mark, I notice that she is wearing roller blades.

As I step out into the cool evening, I look down at the card she has given me.

_Nectar and Ambrosia_

_Coffee Shoppe & Bakery_

_1223 Main Street, Meryton._

Well, looks like my snarky comment was a closer hit that I had intended.

I wonder what kind of place it is. I guess I will have to go tomorrow and find out. But right now, I have to get back to the house. I turn and begin walking down the street, the image of her eyes when she had smiled at me seems engraved in my mind, and for the first time since we got here, I realize that I am not dreading the next day...shocking.


	2. Of Late Nights and Vexing Customers

**Hello again Dear Readers. I hope you are enjoying yourselves so far. I have to say I am. Well here is more antics by our favorite duo. Let's get dear Lissy's side of the story shall we. Lord knows she has one. **

* * *

**Of Late Nights and Vexing Customers**

_**Presented by Miss Felicity Bensen**_

* * *

My night is going badly, and it's getting worse by the minuet. The diner is unnaturally packed with noisy tourists who have all come to our little University town for some big fundraising event, hosted by some yuppie from New York City. Honestly, I haven't even seen the guy and I already wish he wasn't here. This is because ever since the event (and the marital status of the sponsor) was announced, he is all my mother (and the mothers of every mother of a single, female college student or graduate in this town) have been able to talk about.

Honestly, I don't even know what the fundraiser is for yet.

All I seem to be able to focus on right now is how much my feet are killing me. I broke the wheels on my roller-blades, so I am borrowing a pair from one of the off-duty waitress'. It's not that they're not too small, they just fit funny.

Families laugh and talk around me. They all seem so happy, but the moment a waiter appears, suddenly;y everyone is in the mood to be displeased. Everyone is with someone, and everyone is talking. I. Hate. Events. These nights are worse then the fallout after college football games. Well, almost.

I read in a book once that the human eye automatically goes to the thing that is different. I now have to consider accepting this as a fact because amidst all the activity, my eyes go to a dark haired man in the corner, sitting alone and staring into a cup of coffee.

"Lis" I hear Katya, one of the other waitresses call, snapping me out of my 'stare like a creeper at a customer' session "Could you run to the store for some milk, we just ran out, again."

"Get Kyle to do it. I've got a customer to take care of." Kyle looks up, and, noticing the eyes on him, tries to hide the Play Boy he has just been reading.

I roll my eyes and push off the counter, letting myself glide over to the man's table. He just took a sip of the coffee, which is probably lukewarm from all the time he spent staring into it. He doesn't even try to hide his disgust as he cringes. I don't blame him. Drinking the coffee black is taste bud suicide, drinking the coffee at all is taste bud suicide,but sugar and milk helps. Only, we don't have milk because Kyle is too lazy and horny to go get any. Sugar is the last resort.

"It's better with sugar." I tell him half laughing. His reaction to this dinner's coffee is not at all unexpected.

He looks up, obviously still cringing from the coffee. I'd place him at somewhere around thirty age wise. He's got this think, slightly curly, dark hair and sharp bluish grey eyes. It's an unusual combination, but then, as a dark eyed red head, I'm certainly not allowed to make any comment on the matter. Anyways, the combination works for him, he exudes sophistication, like he belongs in another era, not some low end dinner packed full of college students and noisy tourists.

I am suddenly painfully aware that I am talking to probably one of the best looking men I have ever seen, while wearing roller-blades and a name tag that reads 'Marc'.

"The coffee," I repeat, trying to ignore both these embarrassing facts "It's better with sugar."

He looks like he is about to say something back when the actual Marc, currently wearing my name tag walks up to the table.

"I'm really sorry." he says to to the man.

He turns to me, "Some lady just asked me what Lis was short for, and that that man in the back asked me if I was gay or something." As much as the man sitting at the table in front of of exudes sophistication, my dear friend Marc exudes "I'M GAY". The fact the man even had to ask is almost unbelievable, almost.

"What did you tell him?" I asked, positively horrified. As if the ensemble weren't enough, Marc is flamboyant and a half. Whatever he said, it was going to be bad.

"I told him that I was, and that his daddy found that out last night. Or something to that effect. Marc tells me in a rush. "I think he just went to the manager." he adds, looking sheepish.

"Marc you didn't!" I couldn't help but secretly rejoice, God the nerve of some of these people. They waltz into our little college town like they own the joint. After a while, it gets really old, and we get really sarcastic.

Mark just shrugged as if to say 'Well what was I supposed to say?' And really, I agree, what was he supposed to say?

I looked back over at the man. He waved as if to say, 'Yeah, I'm still here and this coffee still sucks alligator balls. Though I'm pretty sure the alligator, not to mention its balls, only existed in my head.

"I'm really sorry." I say "I'll bring you some sugar after I fix this."

He stands up. This isn't going to be pretty. I brace myself.

"This coffee, would taste like shit even if you added the Nectar and Ambrosia of the Gods to it." He says before turning, and walking toward the door.

Not bad. That, I can work with.

I turn back to Marc with what I hope is a I am going to kill you expression. Even if I agree with the way he handled the situation and the asshole of a tourist, I can't have one of my best friends getting fired. I got him this job, I need to help him keep it.

"Stay right here" I tell him, "I will try and fix this after I fix _that_" I say pointing at the man's back. Marc just looks like a confused puppy, poor kid.

I roll after him. I guess these wheels are good for something. I try to think of something to say. Right when he goes to open the door I blurt out "You were right."

He turns to face me.

"On the ambrosia thing." I continue, reaching into my jeans pocket for one of the business card for the Coffee Shoppe I work at during the day. I generally keep six or seven in there, just in case, for moments like this. Finding them, I separate one and hand it to him.

"Here." I tell him, "Come by tomorrow around noon, and I'll make the harassment of you're taste buds up to you"

He takes the card, then just stands there for a minuet.

"Well I gotta go take care of damage control with Mark" I tell him awkwardly, I cock my head, an annoying habit I have whenever I am studying someone. "Really." I tell him "Come by, I promise you, not all the coffee in this place tastes like liquid purgatory for your tongue." I smile, God my mind gets weird sometimes

Then, feeling like a world class idiot, turn and roll back to where I had left Mark. I hear the bells on the door swing jingle softly behind me.


	3. Of Coffee Shoppes and Bakeries

**So glad to see you back again. Here is another update on our favorite heroine. Coffee is in the air this morning, among other things. Let's see if she can put all that wit to good use, shall we?**

**It seems Miss Lissy has more than a few friends, and more than a few jobs, in this town. Meet Kari. Lissy's best friend and steadfast sidekick, even if she isnt in any way responsible for the (mis)adventure.**

* * *

**Of Coffee Shoppes and Bakeries **

_**Presented by Miss Felicity Bensen**_

* * *

The next morning, I open up Nectar and Ambrosia a little earlier than usual. I let myself in through the front door, smiling at the familiar jingle of bells, and lock it behind me. The clock on the the wall behind the old fashioned cash register reads 5:05. It's just early enough that the first rays of morning sun have begun to stream over the horizon and through the slats in the wooden blinds. I walk around the Shoppe, opening all the sets of blinds, letting as much light as possible into the space.

I don't know what it is about this place, but I love working here. Thanks to the Town Council, yes, we have a town council, there is a prohibition on any type of chain stores, so my darling little shoppe is safe from invaders like Starbucks or Dunkin' Doughnuts.

An old friend of my father's owns this place, and I have been working here since I was twelve. At first, all I did was sweep up. By the by, he taught me how to work the vintage machines that make this place so unique. He eventually retired from the day to day management of the Shoppe and left it's care in the hands of me and a few other key employees, though I'm probably here more than anyone else.

I finish wiping down the counters, setting out chairs, and am just about to start on the coffee when I hear the bells on the door jingle delightfully, signaling someone's entrance. It's too early for customers. I look up to see who it is and realize that it is not a far too early customer at all, but my fellow employee, and best friend since grade school, Kari.

"You're up early Lissy." she says with a laugh as she collects her apron from one of the pegs in the back and goes about collecting all the necessary ingredients for the day's pastries.

I just shrug and load more beans into the grinder. Around here I manage the coffee and she does the baked goods. Over the years we have found that this is the best method due to my inhuman propensity to burn anything that goes into an oven. We work in silence for the next few hours, just going about the early morning motions of running a coffee shoppe. At 8:00 A.M. we open up the shoppe. Before long, we have a small line of our usual customers as well as a few fundraiser people. Thankfully, despite being primarily made up of pretentious city slickers, they seemed to have grasped the concept that this is not a Starbucks. I say a silent prayer of thanks to the coffee gods. There is no quicker way to ruin a day than to have someone from out of town come in and order some Starbucks concoction, expecting us to accommodate them. So far, we have had none of that, but I won't get my hopes up quite yet, there are plenty more people coming for the fundraiser.

Sometime before noon, the flow of customers comes to a stop, Apart from an old man reading the paper and a lesbian couple at one of the corner tables, the place is empty.

Just as Kari and I are about to sit down and eat our own lunches, the door opens with a jingle and the man from last night walks in. With him, are two others. A blond man and woman who look to be related. The woman wears the all to familiar, 'I am above you' expression, but the blond man looks delighted with everything.

My eyes wander to the man from the diner. He looks around, taking everything in, but not betraying any of his thoughts. Motioning to Kari to keep eating, I stand to greet them.

"Hello," I say, smiling. He actually came. "What can I get you?"

The woman looks me up and down. I hate being judged, and this woman is doing it quite blatantly.

"I'll have a venti skinny triple shot vanilla latte with no foam." she says in one breath. I just stare at her and sigh. There goes the day's record. Damn these Starbucks junkies. Kari snorts, and seeing the opportunity, chimes in to the exchange.

"This is a Shoppe, capital 'S', double 'p' with an 'e' at the end. Not some shop. We do coffee here, not desert." She says, repeating the quip I coined for these situations.

The woman shoots Kari a devastating glare. Man, if looks could kill Kari wouldn't stand a chance.

She turns back to me. "Well what _do_ you have?" she asks, her tone implying exactly what she though of my precious little Shoppe.

I grin, knowing it probably looks more like a smirk, and reply in my sweetest tone. "We do lattes," I say, knowing full well that she thinks she ordered one. Poor creature.

"That's what I ordered." she says predictably, as if I am a child who needs directing. Next to being judged, I hate being talked down to and this woman has managed to do both in the span of a few minutes.

"No," I tell her kindly, mimicking her tone, "What you ordered was an abomination that the media driven world in which you reside has convinced you is coffee, when in actuality they are depriving you of the knowledge necessary to identify the real thing ." I shrug. "All we try to do here is repair the damage that places like your precious Starbucks have done with their syrupy concoctions and designer drinks. "Now, what would you like?"

The woman just stands there for a moment until the blond man behind her can be heard choking down laughter. I guess people aren't in the habit of standing up to this woman. Yuppies. Ah well, better late than never. I think I see a flash of amusement pass over the dark haired man's face, but I could be mistaken. He,quite unfortunately, appears to fall into the woman's category of aloof judgement. Too bad. If only he had had a personality to match his looks. The woman shoots another look at the blond man, who is still trying, unsuccessfully, to contain himself, before answering me, her voice still dripping with condemnation and disdain.

"Something non-fattening, and vanilla." she says, then walks over to a bar stool at the far end of the counter and sits down in a huff.

I shake my head, then turn to the two men still in front of me. "I'm sorry." I say, making a mental note that going off on someone's friend is never a good way to make a decent first impression. "What can I get for you?" If my manners can't save me, hopefully my coffee can. It usually does.


	4. Of Chilly Mornings and Steaming Coffee

**Dear readers, again we meet. I promise that this is the last chapter where Our main character's narratives will overlap. But really, can you blame them for having trouble taking turns. They dont even know we are here. Silly. **

**Well, as long as they are oblivious, please, indulge yourselves once more. Look in on the sorted and societaly driven lives they lead. Poor dears, they'll never know what hit them until their lives are standing on end looking back at them.**

* * *

**Of Chilly Mornings and Steaming Coffee **

_**Presented by Mr. August Darcy**_

* * *

The morning air is still, chilling our party as it sets off towards the coffee shop. Charles tries in vain to start up a conversation but Gillian cuts him off.

"Can you believe this place?" she asks. "It's so..."

"Charming." Charles interjects sincerely.

"Quaint." Gillian finishes.

I get the feeling that she doesn't mean it as a complement.

She turns to me. "I'm sure _you_ would not wish to spend too much time here Darcy.

"No." I respond, "I could not live here."

Still, as we continue down the redbrick pathway, I take in just how picturesque the town really is. In a way, I meant what I said. I could not live here, but the place has more charm than I had originally thought. Perhaps making a judgement of a town from one night at a crappy diner was not such a good idea after all. In fact, It would be a lot like judging my beloved New York by it's subway station, something I hoped no visitor ever did. As we approach the corner, I can our destination near. It is a corner shop with a sign in swirled letters, not quite cursive, reading: Nectar and Ambrosia: Coffee Shoppe and Bakery. Just like on the card.

"This looks charming." Charles says, as he pushed open the door and leads us inside. I really should keep a tally of how many times a day Charles uses the word "charming."

A soft jingle of bells announces our arrival and we are greeted by the warm aroma of brewing coffee and freshly baked pastry cakes. I look around, taking in my surroundings. This shop looks like it smells. Warm. Inviting. To the right is a sitting area, complete with over sized chairs and a large couch all clustered around what appeared to be a decoupaged coffee table. An old man with a newspaper is seated in one of the chairs, seemingly oblivious to our presence. A brunette girl sits on the opposite couch, eating a sandwich. There were stools lining the two elevated counters, one in place of a bar area, the other wrapping around the inside of the stores large bay window. I look behind the counter and see the waitress from the diner, Lissy, if my memory serves. From the abandoned sandwich sitting on the coffee table, I assume we have just interrupted their lunch. She motions for the brunette to stay where she is, turn to us.

"Hello." she says, dark eyes sparkling. "What can I get you?"

Gillian jumps in first, with, "I'll have a venti, skinny, triple shot, vanilla latte. With no foam."

I can tell by Lissy's thinly masked annoyance, that this is the last place where anything even remotely related to Starbucks should be mentioned. The girl on the couch says something, but I don't quite hear her. I am too busy watching Lissy. Her hair is pulled back today, and she wears a pair of black rimmed glassed. Unlike at the diner, she doesn't look stress. Perturbed, maybe, but it's not the same run down annoyance she wore the night before. This is Gillian specific. Unfortunately, Gillian seems to have taken a disliking to her. _Unfortunately? _I thin k to myself. _Why unfortunately._ True, Gillian's displeasure is not something anyone would wish to be on the receiving end of, but it is not my place to feel protective to this girl. I hardly know her. If fact, I don't know her at all. Just as I am deciding that all is best if I leave it that way, attachments are the last thing any of us need in this town, I am pulled out of my thoughts, by their subject's asking us again what we would like to order.

something must have happened while my mind was otherwise engaged because Gillian is shooting daggers at Charles while he does his very best not to break down into a fit of laughter. I watch as Gillian turns her attention back to Lissy.

"I'll have something non-fattening and vanilla." she says. then she stalks over to the last stool at the bar and sits down. Once she is gone, Lissy turns her full attention back to Charles and me.

"I'm sorry." she says. "What can I get for you?"

Charles moves in closer to the display case of pastries. He always has had a sweet tooth.

"I'll have one of those." He says, pointing to a glaze covered pastry. "And...Do you do caramel macchiatos?" he ask.

She smiles and nods, handing him one of the pastries he pointed to.

"Will you be paying for her as well?" she asks him.

Charles looks down at Gillian and sighs. "I guess. Yeah. I will. I am." he says.

"Okay, That will be $9.63."

Charles hands her the money and goes to sit by his sister. She finishes scribbling their orders on a note pad, then looks up at me and smiles. I find myself consciously having to remind myself not to smile at her like some college boy.

"Coffee." I say, "Black."

She miles again and writes it one her pad. I start to take out my wallet when she stops me.

"Please. It's on the house."

I look at her, confused. She must read my confusion on my face because she explains.

"Too make up for the abuse of you taste buds last night. At the diner."

I put my wallet back.

"Enjoy it." she adds. "Free coffee this good is a once in a lifetime experience." she smiles and walks over to start on out drinks. I join Charles and Gillian at the bar, taking a seat next to Gillian, but around the corner.

"This place is charming!" Charles remarks. Gillian rolls her eyes and I make a third tally mark in my mind.

"Really Charles, it's old." Gillian "whispers."

"Nonsense."

I realize that I have a perfect view of Lissy as she prepares our drinks. choosing to tune out my companions, I focus my attentions on her instead. From a cabinet under the counter, she pulls out two large porcelain mugs. Slowly but surely, I watch as she makes Gillian's latte. Then, she takes out a small amber bottle and and measures out a teaspoon of the identically colored liquid, emptying the spoon into the mug. It takes me a minute to realize what it is. Vanilla. Vanilla extract, to be precise. A far cry from the flavored syrup you find used in every chain store. I watch, entranced, as she lays a saucer in from of Gillian, then, picking the mug up with both hands, she sets it gingerly atop the saucer. Just as Gillian goes to drink it, Lissy stops her.

"Wait. I'm not quite done." She takes the heated milk, and with a few graceful flicks of her wrist, draws out a leaf patter on the surface foam of the late, bringing the liquid up to the rim of the glass.

"There." she says, "Now I'm done." She smiles and goes back over to Charles' mug. I watch as Gillian stares in awe at her cup before schooling her features and raising the mug. I miss her reaction; my attention has returned to Lissy. She goes about making Charles' drink with the same grace and expertise she had used in making Gillian's. When she is done, she sets it in front of him, adorning it with what appears to be a lily. She must have caught me staring, because she says,

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you."

She turns back to the brewer, taking out a smaller porcelain cup this time. Placing it on a grate under the brewer, she pulls a few lever, pushes a button, and a few moments later she brings me the cup on a saucer, this time with no flourish. I almost regret ordering my coffee black.

"Here you are, one black coffee."

I take the cup and raise it to my lips.

"Careful. It's hot." she says.

I blow on the steaming, deem brown liquid and take a sip. It has a slightly nutty flavor and doesn't leave so much as a hint of an acidic aftertaste in my mouth.

"Better?" she asks, smirking at me.

I nod. "Yes," I say, "very." Feeling the silence, and her still standing in front of me, I add, "It's nutty. What is that?"

"Hazelnut." she says. "Only it's in the roast, instead of being added as a syrup so it's not as strong or as sickly sweet."

I nod again, this time allowing myself a small smile, but not until Lissy has shifted her attention to my friend. I watch, envious as she easily engages him in conversation about the upcoming fundraisers. Charles has always had a natural ease with people, one that I lack, and I curse that fact.


	5. Of Patrons and Conversation

**It seems as if Lissy has gotten herself all sorted out now. Good for her. Egads! Is this really the fifth installment of this little adventure? All this time and still no proper introductions between our young heros. Well, we shall have all that sorted soon enough, or rather, we will try. It seems one of our friends has a problem with given names...**

* * *

**Of Patrons and Conversation**

_**Presented by Miss Felicity Bensen**_

* * *

"Hazelnut." I tell him, and explain why it isn't sickly sweet. Then, trying not to take his icy demeanor too personally, I turn to his companion. If nothing else, I want some information on this impending fundraiser.

"So," I ask. "Are you here for the fundraiser, or were you draw to our little college town for more germane reasons?" I ask him with a grin.

The blond man laughs good-naturedly.

"Actually," he says, "I'm the one organizing the events, with the help of these two of course." he point to the others. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Charles Langley and this is my sister, Gillian, and my best friend, Aug-"

The dark haired man shoots him a withering look.

"Oh fine." the blond man, Charles, amends, "Darcy."

I glance over to where Darcy is sitting. He has resumed last night's posture of sitting and staring into his coffee cup. I'm beginning to get the sense that it's a habit for him.

"I'm Lissy." I tell him. "Lissy Bensen. I run the coffee shoppe and generally try to stay out of too much trouble." Earning myself me a good-humored well-deserved glare from Kari.

I spend a good part of a quarter of an hour talking to Charles about the fundraiser. He is friendly and personable and nothing at all like what I had expected. In an odd way, I am a bit disappointed. I dearly love to observe the absurdities in others, and while he may be a little too pleased with everything he sees, I can find no serious defect of understanding in him.

When they stand to leave, or more pointedly _Darcy_ stands to leave and the others follow suit, I bid the group adieu and gather up the cups as Kari comes over to help.

"What was that all about?" she asks.

"I met the dark haired man last night during my late shift at at Ruby's, where he has the unique misfortune to try the coffee."

Kari cringes in sympathy. The diner's coffee is a well known local evil.

"I told him that I'd make it up to him if he came by today." I sigh, "I had hoped he would turn out to be more..." I search for the word I want. "Gentlemanly." I decide. "Unfortunately, he seems to think himself quite above our little college town." I say with a shrug.

"Who was the other one?" Kari asks.

"Charles Langley." I say. "Brother to the snarky woman and sponsor of these fast approaching events of great consequence to out hum-drum lives, or so they would like to think."

"That was him?" she asks, ignoring my dramatics like a true best friend. "God, he's good looking."

"All the worse for him." I say.

Kari looks at me inquiringly.

"The mothers in this town will be on him twice as quick. Good God. Rich _and_ Handsome!" I mock. "The poor man won't have a moment's peace."

"Are your saying you wouldn't want a stab at him?"

"Kari!" I say scoldingly, "He's not a piece of meat. For heaven's sake, you're as bad as my mother. Plus, you know me, I will never marry until I am absolutely, positively, completely in love."

"Lissy, you'd do better not to think that. Many happy marriages came about by chance. From couples who were not absolutely sure they were in love when they first wed. And besides, there is never any guarentees for happiness, as there will always be reason for quarrels."

"You're joking." I say, "You don't actually believe that?"

She looks at me

"You do!"

"It's true."

"No, it isn't. Just look at my parents."

"Yes, look at your parents. From what you told me, they were in love when they go married, now look at them."

"What?!" I as, pretending to be shocked and offended.

"Lissy." she says, giving me a look.

"Oh fine," I consent, "they're a wreck."

Kari laughs.

"You know," I tell her, "Too many psychology classes have got to be bad for your brain sooner or later."

"Oh Lissy."

At 2:00 PM our relief arrives in the form of Lindsay and Leonard Evans, the twins who help keep this place running.

"See ya guys." I say as I hang up my apron. "Good luck with the yuppies."

"Bye Lissy. " they sing-song in unison. "Bye Kari."

We laugh and wave as we open the door to leave, letting more customers in as we do.

"So," I ask as we start off down the cobbled street, "What are your thoughts on this fundraiser thing?"

"I don't know, I mean I'm sure it's for a good cause and all, but it's..."

"In our town." I finish.

"Yeah."she says. Kari likes familiarity.

"Well look on the bright side." I say, "At least we still have the street fair to look forward to before this place turns upside-down and inside-out."

"Yeah, I guess your right."

""I generally am." I say, teasing.

"Oh Lissy," she tells me, "One day that cockiness of yours is going to get you into trouble that it won't be able to get you right back out of."

"It's worked so far." I say, "and besides, I am an excellent judge of character."

"Goodbye Lissy." Kari says, shaking her head at me as she walks down the road to her house. I continue on alone, enjoying the feel of the crisp Autumn air on my face. I really am looking forward to the street fair.


	6. Of Home and New Acquaintances

**Hello again my loves. I apologize for my little absence. As you well know cookies and feedback fuel updates. I wonder if Lissy has any cookies in her little Shoppe? Anyways. To the point. At last Lissy gets to come home and relax after a stressful day. Then agin, try relaxing with her around is a bit like trying to ski in the summer. At least there's Jen to always put a positive spin on things...I mean, at least it's warm... Right?**

* * *

**Of Home and New Acquaintances **

_**Presented by Miss Felicity Bensen**_

* * *

"I'm back!" I call out as I push open the front door to my family's house.

"Lissy!" my youngest sister yells at me as I enter. "Come. You have to help me!" She grabs my arm and drags me along after her. Lydia is only 16 and has the attitude and manners of an only child who is used to getting her own way. And while she is actually the youngest of five, the second part is true thanks to the indulgence of my mother.

"What do you need Lyd?" I ask, hoping she doesn't drag my arm out of its socket.

"You have to help me Lissy. I can't find Jen and Gretchen is being difficult. You have to come tell Emily she looks ugly in my dress and so she can't borrow it!"

"It's _my_ dress!" I hear my second youngest sister, Emily, call from and upstairs bedroom. "I only let you _borrow _it and you_ stole _it. I'm just taking it back."

"Lydia, I'm not dealing with this, go to mom."

"Mom!" she shouts, still holding my arm and nearly bursting one of my eardrums in the process.

"Oh let her have it Emily." my mother calls up the stairs. I sigh and release myself from my sisters grip and head back down the stairs in search of Jen. I want to tell her about Charles and the other two.

"Hello Gretchen." I say as I pass my middle sister who is curled up in a chair with a book in Russian on her lap.

"Lydia and Emily are at it again." she says by way of greeting.

"They always are." I say with a laugh.

"One day their antics will embarrass more than themselves." she tells me gravely.

I laugh and leave her to her book. Lyd and Emily are annoying, sure, but they're harmless. I find Jen out back in the garden. She is busy pulling out fall weeds and dried leaves out of the now desolate beds.

"Hey Jenny." I say, sitting down beside her.

"Oh, hello Lissy. How was work?"

"Good." I say, drawing out the word.

"What is it Lissy?"

"I met some _very _interesting people today."

"People for the fundraiser?"

"Sort of."

"Lissy, tell me." Jen says laughing.

"I met Charles Langley himself."

"You mean the one who...?"

"Yup." I confirm. "The one who all the mother around her have been dying to get their claws into for their single daughters."

"I was going to say 'The one who is organizing the fundraiser.'"

"Well yes, that too."

"Was he alone?"

"No, he had his sister with him, and another man, a friend, he said. I think they are going to help him organize."

"Were they kind?"

"You would have thought so."

"Lissy." she scolds me.

"You would have! You only see the good in others. Not only that, but you willfully ignore the bad, even if it is as plain as the nose on their face."

It's true. When my sister looks at someone, it's as if she is blind to all their faults. She is the angel to my devil. I sincerely hope it never gets her in trouble.

"But really Lissy," she asks, "What did you think of him?"

"Charles seems nice enough, unfortunately, his friend and his sister are stuck up and proud, I did not like them at all. You'd think that such a seemingly charming young man would have better taste in sisters and friends, though the sister I suppose he cannot help."

"Oh Lissy..." Jen is interrupted from my mother's shrill calls from inside.

"Lissy! Jen! Get in here!"

"We better see what she wants." Jen says, standing and brushing the dirt from her knees. I do the same and follow her into the house. We find our mother in the family room with Lydia and Emily. Gretchen is still reading in her chair, trying her utmost best to ignore us all.

"What is it mom?" Jen asks.

"Lissy." she demands. "Caroline Lind has just called me, and she says that Kari said that you met and talked to Charles Langley today. _The _Charles Langley. The one who is bringing his society to our small town."

"I did." I say. Unlike when I added "the" to the front of Charles' name, my mother means no sarcasm.

"And?!"

"And what?"

"Was he totally hot?" Lydia asks.

"He's not for you." my mother scolds her.

"He's not _for_ anybody." I say. "He is an adult who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions."

"Well, if he's rich, and he's single, then he must want to find someone." My mother says. "And where better then here? And who better then our sweet, beautiful Jen?"

"Mother!" Jen exclaims. For all her beauty, Jen hates being put on a pedestal by anyone, least of all our mother.

"Oh come now darling, think of your future. Rich _and_ handsome. Ooh, he must be something..." she trails off, lost in her own musings.

I roll my eyes and am about to leave when my father comes in out of his study. He is a professor of British Literature at the college and spends his time either there or in said study.

"What is the Lissy?" he asks me. "What has your mother gotten herself worked up over this time?"

"Langley." I say simply. "Charles Langley. Apparently she has it all planned out for him to marry Jen."

"_The_ Charles Langley?" he asks, returning every bit of sarcasm. "Marry Jen? Well now Jen, I must congratulate you, from this account you have gotten yourself a fine fiance. But really, it is harsh that Langley should be designed for you without my little Lissy getting her shot." he says, kissing me atop my head.

"Daddy don't." Jen says blushing. She hates the attention, even from her own family.

"Robert!" My mother rejoins the conversation. "You should not go giving Lissy all the preference. She is not any better than her sisters. She's not as lively as Lydia and she's not nearly as pretty as Jen."

I raise my eyebrows at my father. he just shrugs and lets her continue.

"Robert," she continues, ignoring me. "You have the most perfect timing."

"Why is that?"

"Why because Lissy has just met Charles Langley..."

"I gathered something of the sort had happened, but what has this to do with my timing?"

"Let me finish. She met him at that little shop of hers and he is probably home right now!"

"Who, my dear. Who's home?" he says, feigning forgetfulness simply to vex her.

"_Charles Langley_, the rich young gentleman who is holding the fundraiser and who is at their rented place _right now_!"

"Yes, he probably is. What does this have to do with my timing?"

"You must go and visit them!" She practically screeches in excitement. "I have it all planned out. You must go and ask if they need any help, then, you must invite them to come have dinner with us." She claps her hands together in front of her chest.

"I see no reason for all of that. It will be an awful lot of effort on my part. And for what? We will see them in two weeks time at Langley's first event." My father says.

"But everyone else will be there! And we want Jen to get a head start on all the other girls." my mother argues.

"You say Lissy has already met him? That seems more than enough to me."

"Who cares about Lissy?! It's Jen he'll want!"

"Thanks Mom." I say. "Feeling the love." then I leave the room, leaving my family to argue in my absence. What I wouldn't give for one quiet day.


	7. NOTICE (with song)

**Hello dear Readers,**

**I know you were all expecting another chapter but unfortunately I have been preoccupied by my consuming schedule of impersonating a human sized chipmunk. **

**You see, I got my wisdom teeth removed and the result is a crap load of pain meds and the worlds best impersonation of a pissed of chipmunk. Oh. And ice cream. You cant forget the ice cream. And the Starbucks. And the Starbucks flavored ice cream. In truth I am milking my face pain for all it is worth. **

**When my face returns to normal size and I can think straight agin I will return for more adventure in the lives of the most oblivious nearly-but-not-quite-a-couple ever.**

**Until then, pardon me while I grow roots into my couch.**

**Ardent love and affection.**

**The Author.**

_**In the meantime here:**_

_Village Green Preservation Society sung by Kate Rusby_

_**It is Lissy's song. Feel free to play it loudly and weird out those around you.**_


	8. Of Little Towns and Phone Calls

**Hello Hello Greetings and Bonjour. I am back and posting. My face has finally settled down and I'm off the pain pills so...drum roll please...CHAPTER!**

**Feel free to get excited. Also dear, faithful readers I must apologize in advance for the dry spell of updates that may follow this posting. As you see school is starting up again soon and I will once again be swamped with classes and theatre. I hope to be able to update as soon as possible but bear with me if I don't post every week. **

**That said: Onwards to the Towne Faire!**

* * *

**Of Little Towns and Phone Calls**

_**Presented by Mr. August **_**_Darcy_**

* * *

"I don't see why I cannot simply stay here." I say, frustrated that Charles is dragging me along to this street fair. "Professor Bensen invited _you_. He doesn't even know _I_ exist."

"This isn't a formal event Darcy. He invited us to be polite. We could have very well gone of our own accord." Charles explains.

"Yes. So then let me stay here. Of my own accord."

"Darcy!" he exclaims. He hates it when I am difficult. I don't know why I am even having this argument with him. I could just stay at the house and there isn't much he could do about it. But if I do he will pout, and Charles pouting had the tendency to grow vexing, quickly. So when I said I was not going, he insisted I do, and this argument ensued.

"Oh do come with us." Gillian drawls, taking possession of my arm. "It would be torture for me to be there alone with Charles liking everything and everybody." The few other people Charles enlisted for help don't get here for another week, until then, Gillian and her sister, Louisa, will be hard pressed to find decent company in this town. Between Charles pouting and Gillian pleading, I cave. More out of self preservation than anything else.

"Fine." I say, loosing myself from her grip. "On the condition that neither of you try to make me have fun." A street fair full of college kids is truly the _last_ place I wish to spend my evening. Unlike Charles, and probably every other person my age, I do not recall my college years with fond memories. Grad school, yes. My first four years still stuck with people whose main goal in life was to get wasted, not so much. I enjoyed my work and hated people who couldn't focus. Which was the main reason my friendship with Charles was so odd. Charles is physically incapable of focusing on anything.

We grab our coats and, locking the door behind us, set off for the main part of town where the fair is being held. I can only wait and see how long Charles will last in this town before some pretty girl captures his attentions. It is like I said. He can't focus. On anything. When he was in Germany for a conference this past summer he was taken by a Miss Marianne Goble. Before, back in New York it was a girl from NYU who waitressed at a restaurant we frequented. I was glad when the conference took him away. Not that I had anything against the girl, but she giggled far too much. And really, a waitress? I ignore the my mind's reminder that Lissy waitresses at that tacky diner. It is irrelevant. She should be irrelevant.

I let myself fall behind the others and seriously consider turning around and seeing how long it takes before they noticed my absence. Not long, I theorize, given that Gillian kept looking back at me every few seconds. I put it all out of my mind and, instead, scroll through the accumulated emails on my phone. There are four from people back at the office; countless spam messages, one for some dating site promising to find me "LOVE, SEX, AND HAPPINESS", I delete it directly; and one from my little sister, Ginny. I open the one from my marketing manager. I want to wait to read Ginny's until I have time to respond.

The sun is setting and the wind blows my scarf back forcing me to wrap it around my neck to avoid it coming off. I wish I could relax and take in the picturesque of this place but for some reason the quaintness irks me. As we get closer to the Main Street more and more people fill the road. It seems that the town has come to a consensus that anything too bright or even remotely up to current style should be condemned. I stick out like a sore thumb amongst the linen and tweed.

I am still on my phone as our small party reaches the main street. I look up in hopes of not colliding with Charles in front of me. The scene is a complete transformation from what it was just days ago when we visited Lissy's coffee shop. The road is blocked off to cars and the stalls of various venders line up along the sidewalks offering various trinkets and foods. Everywhere people are talking and laughing under the colored lights that seem to be strung up on every available surface. The intersection before Main Street has been transformed into a dance floor, and couples spin under colorful banners while a college boy spins records on a vintage deck. The sleepy little town we came into has come alive.

Under different circumstances, I could allow myself to enjoy this. The whimsy intrigues me. However, circumstances are not different, and being what they are, I would much rather be by myself, working. I don't know anyone here, and unlike Charles, I have never been very good at conversing with those I am not well acquainted with.

Our party stands on the fringes, observing the gaiety, when a heavyset, older gentleman approaches us.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Langley." He says in a deep baritone, taking Charles' hand and pumping it up and down at such a speed that I am afraid it may break off.

"Charles." my friend says. "Call me Charles."

"Of course. Of course. And who are these fine people with you?"

Charles turns to us. "These are my sisters, Gillian and Louisa. And Louisa's fiance Edward Hurndan. And this," Charles says, gesturing to me, "is my oldest friend, August Darcy."

I cringe at the use of my first name. After all the years of our friendship, how can it still escape him how much despise it.

"Very good. Very good." He says, shaking all of our hands in the same manner he shook Charles'. I get the feeling this man repeats himself the way Charles uses the word "charming." Subconsciously.

"Well." he continues, "Well, I am Dean Knight." he laughs in a way that makes me sure "Dean" is both his name and his job description. He confirms it by continuing: "Dean of the college here. I am sure you will enjoy the festivities this evening."

"Of course!" Charles exclaims, "It looks charming." I add another mental tally. Soon I will have to get a new mental notepad. Good God I need a better way to amuse myself.

He turns to me. "And you, August, will you join in as well?"

"What?" I ask, looking up from my phone. The Dean is looking at me expectantly. I am still having trouble reconciling that he called me 'August' and trying to figure out how best not to sound like a complete tool while correcting him when my phone rings, saving me from having to respond.

"Excuse me." I say, walking off to take the call from my marketing manager.

"You'll have to excuse him." I hear Charles say as I retreat. "He's a bit cranky is all he'll come around. Now, tell me about… ."

Great, just what I need on top of my poor people skills: To be introduced to what is likely the third person I have come in contact with in this town as "cranky." Fantastic.


End file.
